


The Vineyard

by islasands



Series: Lambski [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Love, M/M, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islasands/pseuds/islasands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Adam and Sauli are driving to take possession of the vineyard bequeathed to him by his grandfather, Adam discovers he is ready to take possession of something else...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vineyard

Sauli watched the countryside. It was so different to his homeland. Back home, regardless of where you were, in a city or town, on a coastline or inland, you would see hills. Here, the land could run clear to the horizon without a single hilltop to break the monotony of crops. Right now they were driving through vast wine estates. The vines were fruiting. Many were covered in white protective netting, but every now and then they passed older vines with sparse, yellowing foliage. They were still bearing fruit. Sauli looked at Adam. Even after all this time - almost a year - his heart still raced when he looked at his lover. It was no different now to the night they had met.

“You’re looking again,” Adam said, smiling. He had been thinking about the vineyard, still amazed at the idea that his grandfather had left it to him, and they were driving there to take possession, to move in, to set up house in a real house. Sauli’s glance had broken his reverie. Having those clear blue eyes upon him was like walking out of a forest into a sunny clearing.

“I like to look. I always like to look.” Sauli put his hand on Adam’s knee.

Adam glanced down at Sauli’s hand. It was such a beautiful, shapely, strong looking hand. Nothing namby pamby or hesitant about it. The palm broad, the fingers sensitive, the knuckles, like his cheekbones, refined. Not like my knobbly beasts, Adam thought. _He_ has the kind of hands that could control a horse, soothe a fretting infant, break a branch in two, steadily pour champagne in an earthquake. Or hold Adam back from losing his shit.

“We are going to make wine,” Sauli observed.

Adam didn’t immediately reply. The distance he had travelled to get to this moment in his life had suddenly appeared on a kind of graph in his mind, - the peaks, the troughs, the plateaux, and how through all of it he had been on the run. Even when he had thought he was in love and was happy, he had kept running. His last love, the man he had imagined was the love of his life, had accused him of it. “You want guarantees,” he had said, ”but your own are about as reliable as the weather.”  And he had been right. He had run through the storm of anger and tears following their break-up like a train rushing in and out of a tunnel. His life had always been like that, full steam ahead, his brain working overtime, trying to work it all out. And now here he was, sitting next to this man who suited him as perfectly as he fitted his own skin, saying in his accent “We are going to make wine.”

Adam suddenly stopped the car. He sat for a moment with his eyes closed. He got out of the car, walked around the car and opened Sauli’s door. Without speaking he reached into the car and pulled Sauli out. Sauli searched Adam’s face. “What is wrong?” he asked. Adam pulled him into his body, reached around and slammed the car door shut behind him. He released Sauli and just stood there, looking to one side, his face working, his hands in his pockets.

Sauli waited. The sun streamed all around them like the sun in a child’s painting. Sauli looked past Adam at the rows of grapevines stretching right to the horizon. He could see the grapes on the nearest vines, clinging to one another, not black as they had seemed from a distance, but a very dark, powdered blue.

Adam suddenly put his hands on the sides of Sauli’s face.

“I’m not running from you,” he said. ‘I’m not running at all.”

Sauli smiled. “If you did I would catch you. You are slow.”

Adam laughed. Their noses touched.

“I want you,” Sauli said. There was a pause. “And I want to make wine.”

Adam’s hand was on Sauli's belt. Their lips still hadn’t touched. They stood brow to brow, nose to nose, while Adam crushed the grapes of his heart, with his hand down Sauli’s pants, and a breeze fluttering in his hair, and the sun on the back of his neck like a blessing on the vintage of their love.


End file.
